


The Twelfth of March

by TripleTea



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscarriage, Pining, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2020-08-14 07:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20188507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleTea/pseuds/TripleTea
Summary: Sister Bernadette collapses. Things take a turn for the worse, but it's not the bump to the head that's to blame.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no beta. Any mistakes are my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short first chapter.

The day had started badly, around three o’clock in the morning, with her head over the bowl of the toilet. Sister Bernadette felt terrible, and she mused that she must look quite green in the face. She longed to return to bed, but she’d already missed Lauds. She hoped Sister Julienne wouldn’t be at odds with her over it. With a deep and calming breath, she made her way from her room, across the hall and to the top of the stairs. She looked down, and a wave of nausea hit her. She stepped backwards and clutched at her stomach.

‘Good morning Sister.’

Bernadette turned and offered a poor attempt at a smile at Nurse Franklin, ‘Good morning.’

‘I hope you weren’t coming up for me,’ Trixie said as she walked over, ‘I’m only ten minutes late.’

‘Ten minutes?’ Bernadette repeated, ‘You best hurry down, there’ll be no eggs left.’

‘Right you are, Sister.’ Trixie smiled, stepping onto the staircase, ‘See you down there.’

Bernadette watched her go. She should’ve been up hours ago. However would she explain her tardiness? She tried to put it out of her mind as she slowly and steadily descended the stairs, keeping her eyes downcast so as not to trip. After what seemed like hours, she stepped down onto the floor and looked up.

Sister Julienne smiled softly, ‘Good morning Sister.’

She stumbled over her words as she answered, ‘Good morning.’

‘We missed you at Lauds.’

‘I am sorry Sister.’

‘Come, join us for breakfast.’ Julienne said, touching her arm gently.

Bernadette swallowed hard, ‘I… I’d rather not.’ She watched her superior’s reaction.

‘Are you quite well?’

She was wringing her hands together, ‘I was ill in the night.’

Julienne gave her a look, ‘Should I send for Doctor Turner?’

‘No, thank you.’ Bernadette said with a shake of her head.

‘If you’re sure…’ Julienne patted her arm and turned away, leaving her alone in the hall. Bernadette wrinkled her nose at the smell of bacon wafting past her face. She cleared her throat and headed past the dinning room and made her way to the clinical room.

* * *

Several days later, it was much of the same. In fact, Bernadette would’ve said it was worse. Her appetite was well and truly gone, she could barely keep fluids down and she spent so much time vomiting, she’d requisitioned an enamel bowl for her personal use in her room, save her running back and forth to the bathroom. She had tried her best to hide her blossoming illness from her Sisters and the Nurses, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to hide it.

* * *

As it turned out, not much longer at all. Three days later, she was sitting out in the small garden at Nonnatus, Fred on his knees tackling the weeds that were trying their best to take over. Behind her, she heard her name and she stood up, turned. It was a strange sensation that she’d never felt before. Sister Julienne was at the doorway between the house and garden and was smiling softly, until she realised that Sister Bernadette would not be able to assist her.

Her head went first, dizzy and swimming in fog. Next, her legs, buckling at the knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like angst (:


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to keep everyone in character. Please forgive me if it's not too good. I've only written one CtM story before this and that was like, last week.   
There will always be some artistic license, although I do research a lot to try and keep things a realistic as possible.  
We continue!

Sister Julienne walked down the corridor, the early afternoon light warming her through the windows. She saw into the garden, and who she was looking for. She stepped outside. The air was cooler that she’d anticipated, and she supressed a shiver.

‘Sister Bernadette?’ she called.

The younger nun stood without question and turned around to face her. Julienne was about to speak again when she realised that something wasn’t quite right. Her Sister looked quite awful, she was pale, and somehow, even in her habit, looked much thinner than she used to, and Sister Bernadette had always been a slight little thing. It happened quickly, and she had no time to react as the young woman fell, collapsing and hitting the hard ground with a thump.

Julienne let out a little cry, attracting Fred’s attention. She rushed forwards to Bernadette, who lay quietly on her left side, ‘Sister!’ she did not move her, but her hand felt for a pulse at the wrist of her friend. She thanked God that there was one, if only barely. She looked up as Fred arrived, ‘Call Doctor Turner!’

Fred said nothing and simply hurried around them and disappeared into the building.

Julienne pressed a hand to Bernadette’s cheek, she felt cool, like the air around them. She ran her eyes across her, looking for any signs of illness, or injury. She spotted something and moved the wimple slightly. Blood.

‘Oh my dear child…’ she sighed.

‘Sister?’ the soft tones of Nurse Franklin reached her and then she was at her side, and kneeling down next to her, ‘Oh goodness what happened? Fred came running in talking all sorts of nonsense.’

‘She collapsed…’ Julienne said simply, ‘She’s hit her head…’

Trixie glanced the blood and put a hand on Julienne's shoulder, ‘I’ll fetch a blanket or two, we can’t move her, but we can keep her warm.’ She stood and moved away.

Julienne grasped Bernadette’s right hand and held it gently, ‘What’s wrong… what have I missed…?’

* * *

Doctor Turner followed Fred down the long hallway that he knew led to the garden. His heart was pounding, and it wasn’t from the running. Fred stepped through first and then stepped aside, allowing Doctor Turner to step through and take stock of the scene. He shook himself from his stupor and marched forwards towards where Sister Julienne and Nurse Franklin were knelt. Trixie stood up as he made his presence known and she greeted him softly.

‘Doctor,’ she said, ‘we haven’t moved her, she has a head injury.’

‘You did well,’ he told her. He knelt in her vacated spot, placing his case to the side, ‘what exactly happened?’ he couldn’t stop looking at the spectacled nun, even as Julienne started to talk. He saw the blood on her wimple, and the small towel that was under her head, a temporary dressing. He felt sick, seeing her like this. Julienne had stopped talking now and so he turned to her properly, ‘Has she shown any signs of being ill in the last week or so?’

‘She’s not been eating well, and I think she’s been vomiting… I can’t say how much…’ Julienne answered.

‘She could be dehydrated,’ he said, ‘we need to get her inside and in bed, I need to examine her.’ He moved his hands to feel her neck, ‘I can’t feel any signs of injury in her neck.’ He looked over his shoulder, ‘Nurse Franklin, will you please get some cold water and some gauze. If she is dehydrated, then we need to try and get some fluids into her.’

‘Yes Doctor.’

Doctor Turner looked at Julienne once more, ‘If it’s alright with you, I’ll carry her to her room.’ She only nodded her consent. He looped his arms underneath her knees and shoulders. He lifted her with ease, and he worried. It was like lifting a child. Sister Julienne rose with him, and she moved to his right, moving Bernadette's head, so it was tucked against his shoulder, rather than hanging loosely. He thanked her and turned, making his way into the house. Julienne picked up his case and hurried after him. She passed him and headed upstairs, so she could direct him to the correct room.

Once there, he laid her gently down on the mattress and took his bag from Julienne, ‘Any signs of a cough?’ he asked as he pulled out his stethoscope.

‘No.’

‘I’d like to listen to her chest anyway.’ He told her, ‘To be sure.’ Carefully, with as much dignity and respect as he could, and with Julienne's assistance, he managed to listen to the younger woman's chest, back and front. He heard nothing of concern and helped to lie her back comfortably. A few minutes later and there was a knock at the door. Trixie entered, a glass of water and gauze in hand. She came over without a word, Sister Julienne took the things from her.

‘Thank you, Trixie, we need to treat her head wound too-,’

‘The kettle is already on to boil.’ The nurse told her with a soft smile as she retreated.

A soft laugh, ‘Of course…’ she looked at the Doctor, who looked awkwardly back, ‘Doctor Turner?’

‘I’m sorry, but I need to examine the wound, if that’s possible…?’ he said quietly.

The two of them were silent, looking at each other for the longest moment. Eventually, Sister Julienne nodded. He offered only one nod of response, before he carefully took off Bernadette’s wimple, and then her coif. He set them aside on the small dressing table; they’d need washing. Wary that he was under the scrutiny of the superior of the house, he slowly touched Bernadette’s chin and turned her head away from him, so that he could access the wound. He couldn’t clean it until the hot water was ready, but as far as he could tell it was only a small cut and had already stopped bleeding. He also placed his hand on her forehead. She didn’t feel warm, so no fever. He relayed that to Julienne, who relaxed a little in her small wooden chair.

‘Thank goodness…’ she took the gauze and wet the tip in the glass of water Trixie had delivered. She reached over to Bernadette’s face, and carefully pressed the gauze to her lips. It was only then, that she noticed the were indeed dry. How had she only just noticed this? She wondered.

‘Yes,’ Doctor Turner agreed, ‘she doesn’t need a head injury on top of whatever else is troubling her. Although I’m afraid I’m not sure what that could be.’ He pulled away from the younger nun and sat back in his chair, ‘There is a long list of things that it could be with only the two symptoms that we have. Gastroenteritis, cholecystitis… meningitis, kidney failure, appendicitis…’

‘We can ask her if she’s had any others when she wakes up…’ Julienne said, ‘for now I’d like to get some fluids into her, possibly some food. She looks very thin.’

Doctor Turner nodded, ‘She was very light to carry… it was like carrying Timothy. She must’ve been ill for some time. A few weeks at least.’

Julienne made a noise like a little sob, ‘I should’ve noticed, she’s under my care… how can I not have seen her troubles?’

‘Don’t blame yourself for this Sister,’ Doctor Turner told her, ‘sometimes… this sort of thing just happens. I work with Sister Bernadette almost every day. I didn’t notice either.’ He felt the guilt in his stomach too. Looking at her lying on her bed, she looked so frail, pale skin, even more than normal, and her hair. He had never seen her hair before. It was a mix between blonde and light brown, but he imagined that through lack of food and water it’d dulled.

* * *

When Trixie returned with hot water and all the items needed for cleaning and dressing a wound, Doctor Turner took his leave, collecting his bag, and telling the two women that he would be downstairs, and would put the kettle on. They bid him farewell, and he left the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He made his way downstairs, and met Sister Evangelina, as the front door swung open.

‘Oh, good afternoon Doctor Turner.’ She greeted cheerfully, shutting the door behind her.

‘Sister.’ He returned.

‘What brings you to our humble abode?’ she asked him, trailing off down the hallway. He followed her as she clattered into the clinical room and placed her bag down.

‘Sister Bernadette had a fall.’ He said simply.

Evangelina, partway through emptying her bag, paused and looked at him, ‘What? What do you mean she had a fall?’

Doctor Turner set his own bag down on the floor, ‘It appears that she fainted. Bumped her head. It’s not too bad. Sister Julienne and Nurse Franklin are upstairs with her now.’

‘But she’s alright?’

‘It’s only a small cut, she won’t need stitches.’ He told her, ‘But, I’m afraid it looks as though she might be ill.’

‘Ill…’ Evangelina repeated.

‘She’s lost weight and appears dehydrated. Sister Julienne has told me that her appetite has been poor, and that she’s noticed that she’s vomited a few times.’ He watched her, the flicker of emotion that crossed her face.

‘Sounds like she’s picked something up, I’m sure it’s nothing but a tummy bug.’ She bustled around the room.

Doctor Turner sighed, ‘I’m not so sure. Tummy bugs don’t usually last more than a week at most. I’d say she’s been ill for a good three, possibly four weeks.’

‘No,’ Evangelina scoffed, ‘we would’ve noticed.’

‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘we’ll see when we can talk to her.’ He picked his bag back up and left the room. He made his way to the kitchen. He set his bag on a chair in the dinning area and made himself busy, filling the kettle and putting it back on to boil. He stared intently at it for a minute or two before he moved to the small kitchen table and sunk down into one of the chairs at it.

He rubbed his hands over his face, his medical mind throwing diagnoses around like they were confetti. As a doctor is was hard for him to try and ignore them, knowing that Sister Bernadette’s symptoms could mean that she had a layman’s stomach upset, or something much worse.

He considered calling an ambulance, but if it was just a bug, he didn’t want to waste time. He needed to talk to her before he could properly asses her. His nerves were higher now than they’d been in some time. Even a difficult birth couldn’t make him feel as nauseous as he did right now. He dug in his jacket for his cigarette case and his matches, lighting up and taking a large drag. He looked up and checked the clock on the wall. He’d have to call Nanny Turner, ask her nicely to pick up Tim from school and possibly feed him too… but first, the cigarette, to calm him.


	3. Chapter 3

Hours later, Doctor Turner was still at Nonnatus House. Tim was with Nanny Turner, safe and sound for the night and all the nurses and nuns had returned from various locations and jobs around Poplar. Nurse Lee had been on midwifery, and had delivered two babies, both boys. Nurse Miller had been on district rounds and had kept the doctor somewhat distracted, talking about all the things she’d been treating. Though none of it was all that interesting, or something he hadn’t seen before, he was thankful at the attempt. Compline had been and gone, and Sisters Evangelina and Monica Joan had both retired. All three nurses were in the sitting room, along with Doctor Turner. Their current conversations did not interest him, but thankfully they had books and he could cope with those.

_Going to the window, I was just in time to see the white bird on the hat-_

How curious, he thought. Birds on hats. He chuckled and shook his head.

‘Doctor Turner.’

He nearly dropped the book he held as he stood and turned.

Sister Julienne looked as though she’d aged, and she looked dead on her feet, ‘She’s awake.’

He put the book down, uncaring, entirely uninclined to save his position in it. He grabbed his bag which had sat next to him on the floor like a faithful hound. The two of them left the nurses to their ministrations and headed upstairs.

Sister Bernadette was sat upright, propped up with pillows. A blanket across her legs, a tired expression on her face. She wore her glasses, and he noted that she was now wearing her coif. He felt a little saddened; he’d liked her hair. She looked up as they entered.

‘Doctor…’ she greeted; her voice quiet.

‘Sister,’ he replied, closing the distance between them in only a few steps, ‘can I sit?’ he gestured vaguely to the chair that he’d been sat in earlier. She only nodded. He approached slowly and sat, bag placed back at his feet, faithful as ever. Sister Julienne moved around the bed to the other side and sat down there.

He pulled a small notepad and a pen out of his _other _jacket pocket and then placed his hands in his lap and took her in from his closer position, still pale, even her once bright eyes looked grey now, ‘How are you feeling?’

Bernadette avoided looking at him, ‘I have a wee bit of a headache.’

‘That’ll be the bump to the head.’

A nod, ‘Yes Sister Julienne told me… how embarrassing.’

‘Not at all.’ He replied, ‘I need to ask you some questions, about why you collapsed. Is that alright?’

She sighed, almost as if she was annoyed, ‘I’m tired…’

‘I know,’ he said, wishing he could reach out and take her hand in his, ‘but… if you’re sick, we need to treat you and I can’t do that properly until I know your symptoms. All of them.’ He gave her a knowing look, and as if she could feel it, she looked at him and cleared her throat uncomfortably.

Sister Julienne patted her arm, ‘I know you want to sleep, but we need to ascertain what’s wrong. You understand that, I’m sure…?’ Bernadette nodded, looking away from the doctor. Julienne continued, ‘You’ve been ill a while I think, not eating or drinking… vomiting too…’

‘How…?’ Bernadette trailed off, realising she’d been caught out.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ Julienne asked.

‘I… I don’t know.’ A pause, ‘I suppose I didn’t think it necessary.’

‘It is always necessary my dear.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, there’s no need for apologies… but please, let’s see if we can’t figure out what’s wrong and then maybe we can help you feel better.’ Another pat on the arm. Julienne threw Doctor Turner a look and he took his cue.

‘How long have you had the appetite loss for?’ he asked.

Bernadette didn’t look at him, instead staring straight ahead, either at the wall, on the small cross hung on it, ‘I don’t know… a few weeks?’

‘When did it start, specifically? What date?’

‘I don’t know, I’m sorry… it was… this month?’ she said.

He could sense something wasn’t right, ‘May?’

Bernadette frowned, ‘May?’

He shared a look with Julienne, ‘What month do you think it is Sister Bernadette?’

‘March.’

Another look, this time more concerned.

‘No wait,’ Bernadette said, ‘that’s not what I meant.’ She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Julienne spoke this time, ‘Would you like some more Aspirin Sister?’

Bernadette ignored her, ‘March… that’s when it started. Early, but… I can’t recall anything more… it’s all a bit fuzzy.’

‘Two months.’ Doctor Turner said stunned, ‘_Over_, two months…’ Julienne was at this point looking a little more worse for wear than Bernadette.

‘Yes, I suppose that’s correct…’ Bernadette muttered.

‘Well this certainly isn’t just a “tummy bug”,’ he sighed and cleared his throat. He fancied another cigarette, ‘aside from the vomiting and lack of appetite, what other symptoms have you been having?’

They were quiet as Bernadette rummaged in her mind for the answers, ‘Fatigue, even before I lost my appetite…’

Doctor Turner began scribbling on his pad, ‘Anything else?’

‘Dizziness… nausea,’ she seemed to have put aside the fact that she was the patient, speaking as though she was listening symptoms of someone else, ‘some pain…’

Doctor Turner looked up, ‘Pain? Where?’

‘Mostly in my abdomen, but sometimes in my neck.’

He put his pen down, ‘Sister, I think you should go to hos-,’

‘No,’ she cut him off, ‘I’d like to stay here, with my Sisters… in my home.’

‘I understand that, I really do, but you need treatment, least of all for your dehydration.’

‘Could we do that here?’ Sister Julienne spoke up.

‘I suppose so…’ he said. He sighed.

‘What is it Doctor?’ Julienne asked.

‘I need to examine Sister Bernadette’s abdomen.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter. Sorry! It flows better to end it here.

> _‘What is it Doctor?’ Julienne asked._
> 
> _‘I need to examine Sister Bernadette’s abdomen.’ _

* * *

He looked to the younger woman, who was this time, not avoiding his gaze, ‘I am sorry, but I need to see about this pain you mentioned.’

‘Yes.’ She said, ‘Now?’ she shifted in bed.

‘That would be preferable.’ He stood, pocketed his notepad and pen, ‘I will stand just outside…’ he turned and made for the door. He wasn’t out there long, maybe five minutes, when Julienne opened the door and allowed him back inside. Sister Bernadette was lying flat in her bed, one pillow underneath her head, and the blanket pooled at her hips. Her nightdress was pulled up, exposing her stomach to him. He felt his face flush and he ran a hand through his hair. He moved over, and cautiously sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were closed.

‘I will try to be quick.’ He told her. He started on the right side, and when she made little to no complaints he moved to the left side. When he reached one spot, she jumped. A pang of guilt rippled through him, ‘I’m sorry.’ He kept pressing around that one spot, and she groaned, turning her head to the side, gritting her teeth. He pulled his hands away and pulled her nightdress down so that she was no longer uncovered. He turned to look at Sister Julienne, who walked over from where she had remained at the door. He offered her the seat he’d had earlier.

‘Do you have a diagnosis?’ she asked him, taking Bernadette’s hand in her own again.

‘I’m certain it’s not a bug,’ he said, ‘but it could be a number of things. The pain is on the left side, which means that it’s less likely to be her appendix, although it’s still possible. It’s a little too low for the spleen… right now, I think it might be a cyst. Possibly ovarian, given the location of the pain.’

‘A cyst?’ Julienne repeated, ‘Does that mean it could be cancer?’

‘I can’t promise anything. A lot of ovarian cysts are usually nothing to worry about and resolve themselves with time, and hardly need any sort of interference.’ Doctor Turner turned to Bernadette, ‘I’m sorry Sister, but if it is a cyst, then we need to treat you, and that can only be done in a hospital.’

‘An operation...?’ Bernadette asked wearily.

‘Yes.’ He nodded, ‘I’ll ring the London tomorrow and see what we can get for you.’ He reached out and touched the top of her hand with his, ‘It’ll be alright.’ Bernadette’s face contorted. He pulled back, shame filling him. Her face did not settle, and she gasped out. The pain was palpable, and he reached towards her again.

‘Sister?’ he scrambled at her wrist, forcing Julienne to move her hands, he checked her pulse, ‘Slow.’ He moved to her stomach, not even bothering to remove her nightdress. He pressed again; Bernadette’s shout must’ve been heard downstairs.

‘What’s happening?’ Sister Julienne was on her feet.

Doctor Turner found himself entirely in doctor mode. He removed the blankets from the bed in a flurry and pulled the nightdress down to cover the nun’s legs before pulling Bernadette from the bed, ‘The door!’

Julienne rushed to open it and let the doctor free, ‘Doctor?!’

‘It’s ruptured.’ He said as he passed her and hurried off towards the stairs. He took them as quickly at he could, Julienne hot on his heels. The nurses were gathered at the bottom and he shouted for them to _Move! Open the door! _They did, all the while burning with questions. He must’ve looked half mad as he ran out and down the front steps. He was followed. Julienne was first to the bottom, she opened the back door of the MG and then raced around to the other side and got in. Doctor Turner placed Bernadette in the back seat carefully, and Julienne made sure she didn’t fall to the side.

‘Should we not call for an ambulance?’ she asked.

‘She doesn’t have time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The London is only about.... 10-15 minutes drive, back then anyway.... I think. *cough*Artistic license*cough*


	5. Chapter 5

‘What ho.’ Chummy said, spying all her friends in various spots in the lounge. She moved into the room and put her bag down. She looked at them all, Jenny at one end of the sofa, with her legs up on the fabric, and Trixie mirroring her the other end. Cynthia was curled into an armchair, a book half open in her lap. It was quiet, Chummy realised, save for the gentle snores that they made.

‘I say chaps,’ she started again, moving further into the room, ‘what… ho?’ she touched Jenny gently on the shoulder and squeezed.

‘Sister?’ Jenny queried, still half asleep.

‘No,’ Chummy smiled, she came around to the front of the sofa and knelt down, ‘better.’

Jenny blinked away sleep, ‘Chummy…?’

‘In the flesh. What’re you all doing down here, it’s nearly two in the morning.’ She pulled her glasses off and stared up at a light, checking them for muck.

Jenny moved deftly so that she wouldn’t wake Trixie up, she swung her legs around and sat properly. With a yawn she stood up. Chummy followed suit, setting her glasses back in situ.

‘Mrs Higgins?’ Jenny asked, making her way to the kitchen. Chummy followed, picking up her bag on the way.

‘Healthy baby girl.’ Chummy told her, ‘Sweet little bean, took her time though.’

‘Yes…’ Jenny agreed offhandedly. They entered the kitchen and Jenny made her way to the kettle, ‘Tea?’

Chummy lowered herself into a chair, ‘No thanks, not this time of the day.’ She watched as Jenny rubbed sleep from her eyes.

‘What time did you say it was?’

‘Nearly two.’ Chummy replied.

Jenny shifted over to join Chummy. The chair was cold.

‘Has something happened?’

‘Sister Bernadette…’ Jenny began, ‘They had to rush her to the hospital. Doctor Turner took her in his car with Sister Julienne.’

‘Good gracious, what on earth for?’ Chummy asked, the concern in her voice was evident.

‘I don’t know. Doctor just came rushing down the stairs carrying Sister and shouted at all of us to get out of the way…’

‘Gosh.’

‘She fainted earlier too.’ Jenny informed, ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on, but it must be serious, or they would’ve waited for an ambulance.’

Chummy nodded in agreement, ‘I’ll say… I suppose that’s why you’re all downstairs. Waiting for a phone call?’

Jenny looked alarmed, ‘Oh no, I’m supposed to be first on call… and I nodded off…’ she placed her head into her hands.

‘Don’t fret old chum, I’m sure you would’ve heard the phone ring.’ Chummy assured her, patting her friends’ hands atop the table.

‘I certainly hope so.’

Chummy smiled a little, ‘How long have they been gone?’

Jenny shook her head, ‘I’m not sure, maybe, two, three hours? I wasn’t really clock-watching when they left.’

‘Oh,’ Chummy said, ‘no, I probably wouldn’t have been either.’

‘Oh what if I missed a call from a desperate husband?’ Jenny rambled.

‘Jenny Lee.’ Chummy admonished, ‘You’ve been on edge, waiting for the phone to ring for at least two hours. I’m certain that you would’ve heard it had it rung, asleep or otherwise.’

Jenny sighed and looked at Chummy with a small smile, ‘You really think so? ’

> ** _Brrrrriiiing, brrrrriiiing._ **

Jenny and Chummy both leapt up from the spots at the kitchen table and rushed out to the phone. Trixie and Cynthia were already there. Trixie had answered. Jenny let out a breath. Chummy was right; they’d all been on tenterhooks, they would’ve heard the phone ring even if it had been upstairs.

‘Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.’ Trixie said into the phone. It could’ve been anyone.

> _Nurse Franklin? I thought Nurse Lee was on call tonight._

‘Sorry Sister, it’s been more of a three-woman job so far.’ Trixie said.

> _I see._

Trixie thought she could feel a smile from the nun.

> _I’m calling from the London, although I’m sure you would’ve guessed that._

‘Yes.’

> _Sister Bernadette is in surgery and has been for the last few hours._

‘Do they know what’s wrong?’

> _I’m afraid we won’t know anything until later, when she’s out of theatre. Doctor Turner is going to bring me home, and then return to the hospital, to wait for news._

‘He must be exhausted… he should come back too, get some sleep.’ Trixie rattled off, glancing around at her fellow nurses.

> _I said much the same, but he was adamant that he would return..._ _Nurse Franklin, while I appreciate you all staying up, as will Sister Bernadette, we all have a busy day tomorrow. So off to bed with all of you._

‘Yes Sister. Jenny will be here when you return, I’m sure she’ll supply you with Horlicks if you’d like.’

A soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

> _We should be back quite soon._

‘Then I bid you goodnight Sister, and Doctor Turner too.’

> _Goodnight Nurse Franklin._

Trixie heard the line crackle to an end, and she put the handset back on its base with a clunk. Her friends were eyeing her with rapture.

‘That was Sister Julienne. Sister Bernadette is in surgery.’

A collective release of tension. Cynthia spoke first, ‘So they made it to the hospital in time… thank goodness.’

‘Did she say anything else? What’s wrong?’ Jenny piped up.

‘No news on that front I’m afraid,’ Trixie told her, ‘Doctor Turner is bringing Sister back and then returning to the hospital.’ She clapped her hands together, ‘In the meantime, we’ve been ordered to bed. Except for Jenny…’

Jenny tilted her head, a slight smile on her lips, ‘Good thing I’m in uniform, unlike you.’

Trixie shrugged, ‘It was my day off.’ She gave Jenny and brisk hug and chaste kiss on the cheek, ‘Night sweetie.’

‘Goodnight Trixie,’ Jenny laughed, ‘sleep well.’

As Trixie retreated, Cynthia gave Jenny a squeeze of her shoulder, ‘Goodnight Jenny.’

‘Goodnight.’ Jenny replied. Cynthia followed after Trixie, leaving Jenny and Chummy standing in the hallway like lemons.

‘Would you like me to sort your bag?’

Chummy quirked a brow behind rounded glasses, ‘No thanks chuck, I quite like finishing up myself.’

‘Horlicks?’ Jenny tried.

Chummy smiled, ‘Thank you.’

* * *

Sister Julienne didn’t return until nearly three o’clock. Jenny was sat by the phone with a book when the front door opened. They didn’t exchange many words. A greeting, an offer of a drink. Sister Julienne thanked the young nurse but simply walked upstairs and retired to bed. Jenny retook her spot by the phone and that’s where she remained for the next four hours.


	6. Chapter 6

Doctor Patrick Turner had spent far too much time in hospital chairs, waiting for news of one sort or another. He glanced at his watch; it was just past seven in the morning. He frowned and looked up at the clock on the wall a few feet from where he was sitting. Yes, definitely just after seven o’clock. He didn’t think he’d fallen asleep, instead he felt as though he’d just spent the time at the hospital sat in a disgustingly uncomfortable chair... which is exactly what he had done.

He’d not yet run Nanny Turner, as it was too early, at least in his book. Tim would probably be up already, but Patrick didn’t want to ring and risk waking either of them. There was some guilt bubbling up inside him, having left his son to rush off to the aid of a nun, but he tried to quell it with the knowledge that Tim liked Sister Bernadette quite a lot and would want to help her in any way he could. He supposed he should expand the old pocket money at the end of the week either way.

Patrick stood up, stretching his back, hearing it complain as it did most mornings. He yawned unintentionally, pressing a hand to his mouth to try and hide it. A nurse caught his attention, coming from the right. She looked as though she’d only just started, all fresh faced and ready to go. Hope twinkled for only a second, dying out as she passed by without so much as a hello. He realised that he was rather in need of refreshment. He didn’t want to leave his spot, as near to the operating theatre as he could get, but he needed a coffee, or he feared he might find himself on the floor. He was being dramatic of course.

_She won’t mind…_ he mused, rolling his shoulders. He told himself that, but he wasn’t sure if it was true. He’d been here nearly five hours since he’d returned from taking Sister Julienne back to Nonnatus House and a good seven since arriving in a panic, an unconscious nun in arms. He sighed tiredly and wandered off in search of sustenance.

Some time later, he returned to his corridor and made his way back to the greenish chair that he’d been occupying. He had a cup coffee in hand, small, but hot; and a couple of rich tea biscuits. A kindly nurse had made it for him, and slipped him the biscuits with a wink. He’d thought he’d quite like her to receive a medal, for the coffee, not the wink.

He sat, sipped from his cup. When he’d driven Julienne home, he’d told her that he would stay, wait for news, and then telephone her as soon as he’d heard anything. He glanced to the clock on the wall. It was now half past seven. Would they be having breakfast now? Perhaps he should telephone? He dunked one of his biscuits. No, they’d be expecting news and he none to give. He brought the dunked biscuit to his mouth and tried to eat it. Instead he found most of it floating in his coffee. He’d dunked for too long, certainly the worst thing he’d done that morning. So far at least.

He set about trying to sip his drink without touching the soggy remnants of a typically delightful rich tea. It was a frustrating task and when he heard someone call his name he nearly turned and told them off for interrupting. His frustration died when he saw the doctor that had taken Bernadette off down a corridor on a trolley the night before.

‘Doctor Harlow.’ Patrick greeted, setting his coffee down on a chair next to him and standing up.

Harlow came up to him and the two of them shook hands, ‘Doctor Turner. I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Is she alright?’ he asked, silently reprimanding himself for wandering off for a drink.

‘She’s out of surgery, about half an hour ago.’ Harlow told him.

‘Is she alright?’ Patrick repeated.

‘I think we should talk somewhere else.’ Harlow suggested gently. Patrick didn’t argue and only followed the man, coffee forgotten.

* * *

Patrick had always thought that his office was quite nice, but the one he now sat in made him realise that it was anything but nice. Harlow sat down behind his desk and gestured for Patrick to take a seat on the other side, which he did. Harlow pulled out a cigarette case from a drawer in his desk, he took one for himself and then offered it to Patrick.

‘No, thank you.’

Harlow closed the case and set in on the desk, picking up a box of matches and lighting up. He took a few puffs, ‘She made it through surgery.’

Though Patrick had understood that much from their first meeting this morning, he still felt himself relax into the chair, ‘Good, that’s very good.’ He paused, ‘Was it a cyst?’

Harlow shifted uncomfortably, ‘Not exactly…’

‘What does that mean? It either was or it wasn’t.’ Patrick said, eyebrows furrowing.

‘I’m sorry it’s a little difficult to talk about, what with her circumstances.’

‘Circumstances?’

Harlow cleared his throat, ‘That she’s a nun.’

Patrick frowned, ‘I didn’t realise that you had a problem with nuns Doctor.’

‘Oh, no, god that’s not what I meant.’ Harlow said, coughing on his cigarette, ‘The Sister-,’

‘Bernadette.’ Patrick cut in, ‘Sister Bernadette.’

‘Of course, I’m sorry…’ Harlow took a long drag. Then another. Then, ‘She was pregnant.’

The silence that followed was deafening. Patrick couldn’t believe was he was hearing.

‘That’s… that’s not possible.’ He said dumbfounded.

‘I don’t blame you for missing it, I wouldn’t have thought it either, not for a _nun_.’

The word made Patrick flinch, ‘You’re wrong.’ Patrick told him, ‘You must be. How could she be…’ he trailed off, ‘_“Was”_?’

‘It was ectopic.’ Harlow said, ‘It _did _rupture,’

As if that was a consolation when Patrick had got everything else wrong.

Harlow continued, ‘We had to remove her right fallopian tube, and the ovary… she lost a lot of blood. She’s lucky.’

‘Lucky?’ Patrick repeated, ‘I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it.’ He rubbed a hand over his face, sighing. He knew what this meant… Sister Bernadette had been assaulted. He swallowed, ‘I think I’ll have that cigarette now.’


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, it's been a while... sorry. life happens y'know?
> 
> I enjoy writing this story a lot so hoping to get back to it more... 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter <3
> 
> ANY AND ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE AND MINE ALONE.

Patrick stood at the doors of Nonnatus House. It was cool out even though the sun was well up by now. He had come straight from the hospital. He had wanted to go to Sister Bernadette’s side, take her hand, beg for forgiveness, although for what he did not know as he’d done nothing wrong. He knew that he had to tell Julienne, somehow. He didn’t want to, he knew that it was really Sister Bernadette’s news to tell, her secret… but she was incapacitated, and Doctor Harlow had suggested he go home.

Instead he’d called Nanny Turner, said he’d be home later that morning, before calling Nonnatus, and speaking briefly to Sister Julienne. He hadn’t revealed much other than the fact that the younger Nun was alive and resting. The news he had to give was news he must give in person… he had no idea how he was going to tell her, how he would even be able to get the words out of his mouth… about anyone else, a normal Poplar woman it would lively have been easier… someone he didn’t know well, someone who hadn’t pledged themselves to a life of service to others.. and to chastity.

He cleared his throat, shook his head, trying to push away the thoughts and the sickness in his belly. He rang the bell. No more than a minute later, the door was pulled open.

‘Good morning Doctor Turner.’

Patrick summoned a smile, ‘Nurse Miller.’

Cynthia offered him a smile of her own before stepping back and bidding him entry, ‘Are you here for Sister Julienne?’

Patrick stepped inside and the young nurse shut the door behind him, ‘Yes.’

‘She’s in her office…’ Cynthia told him. She turned to him as he fumbled with the buttons on his coat, ‘how is Sister Bernadette...?’

Patrick paused in his fumbling, ‘She’s… resting.’

Cynthia nodded to herself, ‘Thank goodness… Sister Julienne told us that you phoned with good news regarding the surgery.’ She walked past him and turned to look back at him.

Patrick nodded too, ‘Yes, the surgery went well.’

‘Was it a cyst as you suspected?’ Cynthia continued.

‘I-if I could speak to Sister Julienne?’ he said, trying to be polite but wishing her away at the same time.

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘I’m sorry.’ She turned away and headed off down the corridor. He let out a breath and continued with his coat buttons for a moment. When he’d finally undone them all, he took off towards Julienne’s office. Once there, he had to pause again before he knocked. A soft voice from within called him to enter. He grasped the handle and pushed it down. The door opened slowly, a slight creak crying out from the hinge as he did so.

Sister Julienne was sitting at her desk, several items strewn across it, she looked, not dishevelled but out of sorts in some way. He supposed it was to be expected.

‘Ah, Doctor Turner…’ she said, good morning.’

‘Good morning Sister.’ He replied, loitering at the door.

Julienne looked at him softly, ‘Please, come in. Sit down.’ She stood up and gestured to the two seats opposite her.

Patrick thanked her, shut the door and crossed the room to sit down. He slouched in the chair, rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.

‘Did you get any sleep at all?’ Julienne asked him, sitting back down in her own chair and setting her linked hands down on the desk.

‘Not a wink.’ He replied honestly.

‘You didn’t need to stay.’ She told him.

‘I did.’ He told her, ‘It felt wrong to leave her alone.’

Sister Julienne smiled softly, ‘I’m sure she will appreciate that.’ They shared a moment of silence. Patrick wondered if that was true; would she appreciate that he stayed? He wasn’t sure that she would, but there was a small spark of hope in him at Julienne’s words, and there was a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but that could’ve easily been nerves.

‘Sister…’ he started, ‘you know of course that Sister Bernadette made it through surgery.’

‘Yes, thank goodness. Myself and my fellow sisters all had her in our prayers…’ a pause, ‘and I must thank you Doctor. I’m not sure it would have been such a good outcome had you not been so quick to take her to the hospital.’

Patrick shook his head, ‘No need to thank me Sister, I was just doing my job…’ he waved a dismissive hand, ‘and I was wrong, Sister Bernadette did not have a cyst.’

Julienne took that in for a second or too, ‘Then, what was it? The appendix?’

‘No,’ Patrick said, swallowing down the lump in his throat, ‘Sister Bernadette was pregnant.’

It was as if Patrick were watching the same scene from the hospital, when Doctor Harlow had told him. Only Julienne didn’t have a cigarette. He was almost inclined to offer her one.

‘Pregnant?’ was all she said after a long moment.

‘Yes.’ He replied. He could tell that it hadn’t really sunk in yet, ‘I’m sorry.’

Sister Julienne looked sharply at him, eyes shining with emotion, ‘You have nothing to be sorry for Doctor Turner.’ They sat in silence for a while longer, until it finally dawned on the older Sister.

‘_Was_?’ she repeated, ‘What happened?’

‘It was ectopic,’ he began, watching Julienne as she took in what he was saying, ‘and as it does, it ruptured… she lost her ovary and tube on one side, and she lost a lot of blood…’ he paused, ‘there will likely be scarring…’

‘I… I don’t know what to say…’ Julienne said quietly.

‘It’s hard news to take in,’ he said, ‘and I’m sorry that we now have to think about how this came to happen.’

She shook her head, ‘I’m not sure that I want to.’ She shifted in her chair, ‘Although this could well explain why she has been so unwell.’

‘How long was she unwell?’ Patrick asked.

‘A few weeks.’

Patrick was nodding, ‘I think it was longer than just a few… if she was experiencing morning sickness, it’s usually first evident after the first six weeks… but you know that…’

Julienne sighed, ‘Did Doctor Harlow have any ideas on how far along she was?’

‘No. Ectopic pregnancies can rupture anywhere between six weeks and sixteen.’ He replied.

‘Three months…’ Julienne breathed, ‘she could’ve been pregnant for three months and I never noticed…’

‘None of us did, and I’m a doctor. I’ve worked with her countless times in the last few months… not once did I suspect anything.’ Patrick said.

They fell silent, savouring the moment, and the company the other provided. It was a shocking revelation and neither of them wanted to think of how it all happened… and why Sister Bernadette thought it prudent to keep it to herself. Patrick felt sick again, and he knew that time it wasn’t nerves.

‘How long will it be until she recovers?’ Sister Julienne asked quietly, pulling them both back into the room.

‘I can’t say for certain… ectopic pregnancies are usually fatal for mother and baby… we were lucky that the Sister survived at all… but… at a guess, with the amount of damage, and the blood lost…’ he paused. He had been thinking purely physical, but there would be mental damage too if the assumption about how she came to be pregnant was correct. He sat in silence, forgetting to continue his sentence, and that Sister Julienne was awaiting his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like the ending of this chapter, but I couldn't think of another way to end it... so, sorry if it seems awkward !


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